“I still think it was kind of my fault, but I completely accept your apology. I’m sorry for what I said too.” I smile and look him over. He looks different. “You’ve grown or something.”

“I have grown. I’m almost six-two. And I didn’t have anything to do this summer besides work out, so I’ve bulked up.”

I look at his shoulders. He’s always had a nicely toned body, but now he looks even more buff, and it looks very sexy on him. Part of me wants to drag him back to my room, rip off his shirt, and see those new muscles up close and personal.

He looks around. “Am I the first one here?”

I nod because I don’t know what else to say.

He flashes me his sexy grin. “Good. I want you to open this now.” He opens the door back up, grabs a gorgeously wrapped present off the step, and hands it to me.

I lead him into the living room, where we both sit down on the couch. I pull the bow off the package, rip the paper off, and read the box. “Golden Goose?”

Did he really buy me Golden Goose?

He shrugs, but his blue eyes twinkle with excitement. “Keep opening it.”

I open the box and pull back the tissue. Nestled inside the box are the most gorgeous brown cowboy boots I have ever seen.

“Since we’re doing our own thing this year, I thought you should have some boots that wouldn’t try to kill you,” he says sweetly.

Tears immediately spring to my eyes as I remember the day he carried me to the locker room. The day he unbuckled my shoes and rubbed my feet.

I lean in and kiss him.

Right on the lips.

“God, I missed you,” he says, then kisses me deeply again.

“I missed you too,” I say, suddenly realizing that I have.

He holds my chin in his hand and looks sincerely at me. “You’re kissing me. Does that mean you’re done with the surfer? That you’re ready to have a great year together?”

“I, um, I told you he’s my date for the party.”

“Keatyn, you don’t kiss someone like that if you’re in love with someone else.”

He slowly caresses my face, tells me how much he missed me, and how bored he was this summer without me.

But I’m sort of lost in my own thoughts.

This party was supposed to be about bringing my worlds together, but Brooklyn doesn’t seem to want any part of my world.

He only wants me when I’m in his.

And if I’m really honest and thinking with my head instead of my heart, I’m pretty sure we don’t have a relationship. That this summer meant a lot more to me than it did to him. How can you tell a girl that you love her and that it’s cool that you can chill together in the same breath? And how do you tell her that right after sex? How could you even consider not going to the birthday party of the person you are supposed to love?

I stare into Cush’s gorgeous blue eyes.

Cush.

The boy who likes all of me.

The girl who likes to dress up as much as she likes to be casual. The girl who likes to go to expensive restaurants just as much as she likes shacks on the beach. The girl who is as happy getting a pedicure in a posh spa as she is running her toes through the sand. The girl who likes to kick ass on the soccer field, but still likes to have the car door opened for her.

Cush is excited about school because he wants both of us to be everything we are, not what people think we should be. The boots he gave me are exactly like who I want to be. An expensive brand, but comfortable and casual. They totally symbolize me.

Actually, they symbolize us.

Everything we could be.

Together.

He kisses me again, and I feel like I’ve finally figured out exactly where I belong.

“Out of all the things you could’ve gotten me for my birthday, what made you pick these boots?”

“I know how you love your shoes. Look at these gorgeous shoes you have on tonight.” He runs his hand down my leg, grabs my ankle, and appreciates my shoes. “I thought these boots looked like you. They’re classy and expensive, but still comfortable and carefree. I know it's probably not appropriate for me to say this, but I want you to know. I didn’t even kiss another girl this summer. I still love you, Keatyn. I really do.”

We lean our heads together and his lips find mine. His kiss is soft and sweet, but there’s fire behind it.

And I can’t help it. I want to feel the burn.

“I asked Brooklyn to be my date tonight,” I say softly.

“I know. I wasn’t allowed on Facebook over the summer, but I checked it today. I heard you’ve been pretty unplugged this summer, but I thought if you were going out with him you would’ve posted it.”

I start to get tears in my eyes again and shake my head.

“We’re not going out. We’re just . . . I don’t know. He says he loves me one minute, and acts like what we have is just chilling the next. He didn’t want to come to my party. I had to guilt him into coming.”

He runs his hands down both my arms slowly and ends up holding both my hands. “Keatyn, I wouldn’t have missed your party for anything.”

I smile at him and try to push back happy tears. “I know.”

He breaks out his naughty Cushman grin and says, “So, you’re single. I’m single. Let’s mingle.”

I laugh. He always makes me laugh.

The front door swings open and Brooklyn walks in.

I stand up quickly, knowing I look like Gracie does when she gets caught sneaking Hershey’s kisses out of the pantry.

Brooklyn walks in the living room and sits down in the chair across from the couch Cush and I were just kissing on.

“Found my wallet,” he says, holding it up in the air.

Yes. This is awkward.

“Um, Brooklyn, so this is Cush.”

Brooklyn’s eyes can’t hide his recognition of Cush’s name. The boy I lost my virginity to.

Cush stands up and puts his hand out to shake Brooklyn’s. He’s such a gentleman. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’ve been hearing all about your summer.”

Although he is looking straight at Brooklyn, I know his comment was meant for me. Reminding me that although the summer was great, it’s not really shaping up the way I thought it would. That he still loves me. That he wants to go out with me. That Brooklyn hasn’t asked me to go out with him all summer long.

“It was pretty great,” Brooklyn says.

Then there’s an awkward silence as the boys stare at each other.

I have no freaking idea what to say.

Um.

Um.

What should I say?

I swear, every useful, random thought has left my brain. All I can think about are the two boys who are now sitting in front of me.

About how I’ll have to choose.

About how I’m pretty sure I already have.

Thankfully, Mom and Tommy walk in.

“Brandon,” Mom says just as the doorbell rings. “I think you’ve grown this summer.”

“I’ll get it!” I say, a little too enthusiastically.

I’ve been praying Vanessa and RiAnne would show up soon. They are good at stealing the spotlight.

But instead, I open the door and see Sander.

“Sweetheart, happy birthday,” he says, laying kisses on both my cheeks.

Ohmigawd, what was I thinking? All three of the boys I’ve dated, together in the same room? Why can’t I be like Vanessa? Love them and leave them?

“Abby!” Sander gives my mom’s cheeks the same treatment.

“Sander, honey, how is Grease going?” Mom says.

Thankfully, Sander is very comfortable in the spotlight. We hear all about filming. More than any of us really wanted to know. He even shows us the new dance number for “Grease Lighting.”

I pretend to be thoroughly enthralled by his rendition. I don’t even cringe when Mom starts doing it with him.

I just try to think.

What the hell am I going to do?

Brooklyn was right. You can’t run away from your problems because eventually they come and find you.

And apparently all of mine decided to show up tonight.

I look at Tommy laughing as Mom dances. Mom says Tommy makes her a better person. That he encourages her to grow and laugh and live. That he’s always there for her. She says she loved my dad deeply, but that they had a more volatile relationship. That they could both be stubborn and would fight to get their way instead of working together. That he expected her movie career to take a backseat to his modeling. How when she had me, he suggested that she quit acting altogether. How they fought about her taking me on sets because he thought I wasn’t going to grow up normal.

He might have been right, but I’m glad Mom won that fight. I would never change my childhood. All the stuff I got to experience. All the places I’ve been.

Really, it was my stupid crush on the actor in High School Musical that caused all this. Caused me to want to go to high school. Caused me to question who I am.

Damn Disney, and all their happily-ever-after, unrealistic, bullshit stories.

I think back to my conversation with Grandpa this summer. When he asked me who I want to be.

Who do I want to be?

Mom says she and Tommy are a team. I don’t feel that way about Brooklyn and me. Brooklyn pretty much decides what’s cool and chill, and that’s what we do.

Cush and I are a team.

Sander finishes his dance and says to me, “Can I speak to you in private for a minute, sweetheart?”

My eyes get big, but I look down so no one notices.

“Uh, sure,” I say and lead him back to my sitting room.

“I have something important to tell you,” he says.

Please, do not tell me you are in love with me, I plead with him telepathically. My brain may literally explode if you do, and that would not be a good way to start my birthday party.

I can’t say what I’m thinking, so I just nod my head.

“Look, I trust you. You know the movie industry, and I know you will understand and not be mad at me.”

“Mad at you? What did you do?”

“I lied to you.”

“Lied to me about what?”

He sighs, sits on my couch, and looks like he’s trying to get his courage up. “I don’t really want to wait until I get married.”

Is he serious? Ohmigawd. I seriously might just faint. Is he saying he wants to sleep with me? Now?!

“Oh,” I say, mostly because I can’t come up with anything else.

“Any other guy would’ve had sex with you. You’re such a beautiful person, and you’re very sexy. I just wasn’t attracted to you.”

What?!

Oh, great!

Happy fucking birthday, Keatyn. Just thought I’d let you know that I didn’t sleep with you because you aren’t attractive enough. Have a great day!

“Oh,” I say again and lower my head. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

He lifts my chin up, so I am forced to look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m gay.”

“What? No. Seriously?”

“I’m pretty sure, yes. Actually, I know I am. I just can’t tell anyone. I’m afraid it would ruin my career. All those little teenyboppers that are gonna buy my posters would be crushed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought I wasn’t sexy enough. I thought it was me!!”

“Obviously, it wasn’t you. It was me. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been going through a lot. Why do you think I always drank so much when I was with you? I was trying to pretend I wasn’t gay, but it’s who I am. And this is going to sound odd, but thank you. I knew if I wasn’t attracted to someone like you, I must be gay. I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything, and I really do adore you.”

He wanted the perfect high school script just like I did. It didn’t matter that we were completely wrong for each other. I crushed on Brooklyn the entire time I was with him. I was just as fake as he was. Hard to condemn him for that.

I also take note of his comment, It’s who I am.

I hug Sander tightly. “It’ll be our little secret,” I tell him.

As we’re walking out of my room, I see the locket James gave me for my birthday sitting on my dresser. I put it around my neck and silently tell my dad I miss him.

All bullshit aside, I did.

11:30pm

The party is in full swing, and everyone is dancing. Brooklyn and I are sitting off to the side of the dance floor on some lounge furniture with a bunch of the guys we surf with. I had hoped they would all be out dancing and meeting new people, but Brooklyn’s telling them all about his Summer of Waves, as he is now calling it.

Personally, I would have named it the Summer of Love, but what the hell do I know?

He goes on about what makes one wave or surfing location better than another.

I look out at everyone having fun dancing.

I stand up in front of him

“Come dance with me.”

“You know I don't like this kind of music,” he says, dismissing me and continuing his story.

The guys are listening intently, like he’s the God of All Surfers. Seriously. They’re practically bowing to him, and he's loving it. Loving being in his own little spotlight.

I felt like I should be with him, since he came tonight, since he’s my date, since he’s supposed to love me.

But I can’t quit thinking about Cush. And the more I think about him, the more irritated I get with Brooklyn.

“I’m going to dance,” I say, but the only response I get is a slight head nod. Which is pretty much the nail in our love coffin. As much as I know it’s over, part of me can’t help but still try. I feel like I’m giving up on a dream. Like I failed somehow. “Please come dance with me.”